#1 in humor, action, and romance
❝Octavia Snow, you're going to have to come with me,❞ the stranger said with an amused look.
❝No thanks, I'm really not a big fan of kidnapping.❞
❝Sorry Cupcake. You don't have a choice.❞
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OCTAVIA SNOW is a sass...
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Lxi. BOMBS & EXPLOSIVES
Torrents of vibration knock me off my feet, causing me to crash into into the table. Thirteen swiftly raises his hands and snaps his handcuffs. I stare at him with wide eyes as he stands. He stands to stretch his arms, emphasizing his domineering frame over mine. I back up until I hit the one-way mirror.
"What did you do?" I spit, using anger to mask my horror.
Thirteen stares at me objectively. His arms box me in against the wall. "Put two and two together—I just bombed your agency."
"How? How could you possibly communicate with anyone outside? We just brought you in..."
He smirks. "I let you capture me, Darling, so that I could get to my Queen."
"You're twisted," I scorn. I stare straight past him. Unsatisfied with the lack of attention, he tilts my chin up to meet his eyes. The vibrant green was lifelessly misleading.
Despite my best efforts, he was always one step ahead. This was a fucking game to him, a game that he kept winning. My elbow digs into his chest while my knee comes up. Thirteen anticipates this, grabbing me and shoving me hard against the table while pinning my hands behind my back.
"Stop fighting me," he seethes.
"Why don't you go eat a bag of—"
I'm pushed into the table before I could say anything else. The stinging metallic tang of blood rises in my throat as I'm paralyzed. The smooth, lacquered wood of the table sends chills through my cheek.
"Well isn't this fun," Thirteen smiles sickening amusement. He then roughly pulls me into him, once I've momentarily stopped struggling, and his grip on my waist tightened. It feels like a snake vice strangling his prey. I couldn't help but grimace in response which only provokes him even more.
"Go to hell," I spit.
"I said stop fighting—"
I slap him. My nails leave determined white marks over his cheek. He scowls in response, his hands forming fists, but he restrains himself. Thirteen releases me with an determined glare.
I furiously slam against the door in an attempt to escape. Since this was an interrogation room, I couldn't open the door unless someone from the other side let me out. No one opened the door. So either they were preoccupied, being attacked, or... died.
Thirteen laughs at my futile endeavor. The laugh, although empty and hollow, manages to reverberate in the room; it was unlike anything human.
Suddenly, a woman opens the door. It was Katrina, which meant I was officially more screwed than a mama duck and her ducklings on the highway.
"She's in the building," Katrina says.
Shitshitshitshitshit. Emma? Who the hell even authorized her to come here?
